For Better or For Worse (The Butterfly Effect)
by Return Of The Nightmare
Summary: Harry's abuse is worse than in canon, and is murdered before he learns of magic. Just what will this cause? Contains mentions of severe child abuse, non-graphic rape, character death, suicide, and good old swearing. And some very angsty canine friends. NOTE: Yes, it's meant to be four at the end! Stop saying 'five because Dumbles! Why would he live with them?


**A/N**: I'm still not sure how trauma and flashbacks work, but whatever. I'm being considerate for once in my life and giving warnings! Oh, I'm so nice, I'm so nice... *snorts sarcastically*

**WARNINGS**: Mentions of abuse, non-graphic rape, character death, suicide, blood, general angsting and depression, and a few swear words. It wouldn't be one of my stories without a few good swears.

May be a tear-jerker. However you spell it. I don't know, I cry easily.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter looked up at his furious uncle, expression blank. This had to be by far the worst beating he'd received so far, with no less than two rounds of <em>that<em>. A few years ago, he would have prayed for some unknown relation to come and save him from this nightmare, but as it was, any hope within Harry had been beaten out months ago.

Harry wasn't sure why Vernon was hitting him again. He guessed it had something to do with that letter that was addressed to him, but it could have been anything. He'd stopped paying attention to the world on his tenth birthday, and everything since then was a blur. For all he knew, he could have dropped a plate and he wouldn't have noticed.

Pain, however, brought him out of his trances. Like just now when Uncle Vernon slapped him across the face again. He couldn't hear what he was saying; he'd stopped listening to the people around him around the same time. He just felt the pain as his uncle beat him with his fists, legs, Dudley's new Smeltings' Stick, and his old favourite; the spiked whip.

Harry's entire body, save his face and hands, was littered with scars. He didn't even know what his back looked like at this point, not that he really cared. Appearance is rather irrelevant when you fight to live every day.

However, if Harry was honest with himself, he had no reason to live. His parents were dead, and if no one had come to save him already, then he must be alone in the world. No one cared for him. He was just a freak. That letter from earlier was obviously a prank form some neighbourhood kid who heard about Harry's living in the cupboard under the stairs.

Kneeling on the floor, Harry realised that Vernon was starting _that_ again. It hurt like hell, and he hated it more than anything else that had happened to him. It probably went hand-in-hand with the fact that nobody cared about him, never mind loved him Both things were enough to bring the small boy to tears.

When Vernon gave one final thrust, Harry allowed himself to sink to the floor. He'd given up fighting. Now all he wanted was for the pain to end, preferably forever.

And he gained his wish, as Vernon Dursley suddenly stepped on his neck.

There was a burst of pain, and then nothingness.

He was free.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in Albania, a wraith suddenly felt himself burning up inside the snake it was possessing. With one high-pitched scream, it faded from the mortal realm forever.<p>

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was in his office, signing paperwork when it happened. He'd been mentally whining about stupid politics and bloody morons when one of his prized silver instruments suddenly gave a loud shriek and then died altogether.<p>

Head snapping up, Dumbledore eyed the instrument in shock. For this device to stop completely… something had caused Harry's blood wards to fail! And even worse, the Ministry would be notified of it…

When Dumbledore arrived at Number Four Privet Drive, there was already a group of five aurors there, gaping at the broken form of Harry Potter even as Vernon Dursley and his family struggled against their bindings.

Dumbledore sank to his knees. He'd thought Petunia would get over her petty hatred for her sister. He'd thought that maybe she could grow to care for the boy. He'd given her a second chance… and it had killed an innocent boy. _He'd_ killed an innocent boy. _He'd_ killed the cute green eyed child that had only survived what his parents hadn't because his mother had sacrificed her life for him.

The boy would have been better off dead.

As the headmaster sank into a shell of despair and guilt, the aurors around him gathered evidence, occasionally glaring at the man who'd sent the kid here. Why the hell hadn't the idiot checked up on the wizarding world's saviour?"

* * *

><p><strong><span>BOY-WHO-LIVED ABUSED!<span>**

**MURDERED BY HIS OWN UNCLE!**

**DUMBLEDORE CHANGES SCHOOL PROCEDURES!**

**ABUSED MAGICAL CHILDREN TO BECOME HOGWARTS WARDS IMMEDIATELY!**

Molly Weasley shrieked as she read the headlines of the day's _Daily Prophet_. From behind her, she heard her husband ask her what the matter was, but she didn't hear. She'd been planning on manipulating that boy into marrying her Ginny. She'd assumed he knew of his grand wealth and was spoilt rotten, but she hadn't cared; she just wanted her Ginny to be happy. But now all those dreams were shattered, and she was left with nothing but a piercing guilt in her chest. She'd been thinking those horrible things about an _abused child_, not an arrogant toe-rag! What had she done?

As she read on, she felt even worse. Daily beatings. Starvation. Severe neglect and verbal abuse. Regular sexual abuse. She felt sick.

She didn't notice Arthur reading the article over her shoulder. She didn't notice as the man let slip a sad tear. He'd known the Potters, not very well, but a little, in the Order of The Phoenix. They'd been so cheerful, so bright, and their son had never been given the chance to be as brilliant as they. He'd been tortured ever since he'd lost his wonderful parents.

"I think we should tell the kids, Molly," Arthur said quietly. "This could be good for them. If they realise just how bad their idol had it, they might grow stronger."

Molly couldn't disagree.

* * *

><p>As his parents told them of the horrible life Harry Potter had led, Ronald Weasley felt sick. He'd been so jealous of the boy's fame and money, and yet that boy had never even realised anyone cared about him. He'd grown up without even the family that Ron had; heck, apparently he didn't even have toys! Ron was as poor as you usually get in the wizarding world, and even he had these small luxuries. For that is how he saw them now; luxuries.<p>

Ron realised there was more to life than money. He felt guilty for not appreciating the loving family he had now that he realised how bad it could be. From now on, he would make the most of what little he had with his family, because you never know when you might lose it.

Little did he know that 'Perfect Percy' was having similar thoughts.

* * *

><p>Ginerva sobbed as her mother finished her story. She didn't understand some of what she'd said, but it all sounded so horrible. She'd been fantasizing for years how great it would be to finally leave The Burrow and move into Potter Manor with Harry Potter at her side, and all that time her idol had been tortured by his own family. All of a sudden, the Boy-Who-Lived was a real person for her to relate to and look up to, not a bed time story.<p>

Looking around the room, she knew her brothers were thinking similar things.

* * *

><p>"Bit of news for you, Black. You fucking murderer." Minister Fudge sneered as he tossed Sirius Black a newspaper through his bars.<p>

"Why thank you, Minister. I do miss doing the cross-word." Sirius replied good-naturedly. To any observer, Sirius would have seemed fairly cheerful. Deep down though, he was rather worried. Why had the Minister of Magic bothered to come to Azkaban to give him a bloody newspaper.

As the flabby man walked away, Sirius looked at the headline and felt the breath catch in his throat. No. No, it couldn't be. Harry…

"I thought you were being loved…" the prisoner whispered painfully. "I thought you were being loved, Harry!"

He choked on a sob as he continued reading, fully breaking down when he read the details. Child imprisonment. Starvation. Slavery. Verbal and physical abuse. Neglect. Sexual abuse. It was all his worst nightmares for his sweet little godson combined.

Letting out an anguished scream, Sirius looked at the paper through his tears. There he was; the man who'd done all of this to his baby boy. The fat man. He would pay. He would pay in blood. He didn't care if he had to break into the bloody Ministry to do it; that fucker would pay!

* * *

><p>Remus Lupin stared at the headlines with silent tears trickling down his worn face. All these years he'd been under the firm belief that Harry wouldn't want to know a pathetic werewolf like him, and here was the result. Slapped bang right in his face.<p>

He let out a sob and lowered his face into his hands. He'd let his cub be tortured all of these years because he had a stupid insecurity! Remus' shoulders shook as his sobs increased in frequency. It was all his fault. If he'd just visited the poor kid once… just once… he might have been alive now. Alive and happy. But no, Remus fucking Lupin had to screw it all up because of his sodding insecurities.

He was pathetic.

Remus saw the light shining off of the bread knife in the corner of his eyes, and letting out a pathetic whine, reached out for the wooden handle. Only seconds later, Remus' wrists were coated in his own blood as he furiously struck at his skin with the recently sharpened blade.

"It's all your fault… all your fault…" the werewolf whispered as he viciously reopened old scars.

An hour later when Albus went to check up on him, Remus was slumped in his dining room chair in a pool of his own blood, eyes staring blankly at the newspaper article.

* * *

><p><strong><span>SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!<span>**

**WHAT IS YOU-KNOW-WHO'S RIGHT-HAND MAN AFTER?**

**BOY-WHO-LIVED'S MUGGLE RELATIVES MURDERED IN MINISTRY HOLDING CELLS!**

**SIRIUS BLACK SUSPECTED!**

* * *

><p><em>Here Lies:<em>

_James Charlus Potter_

_27/03/1960 – 31/10/1981_

_Lily Marigold Potter_

_30/01/1960 – 31/10/1981_

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_

_Harry James Potter_

_31/07/1980 – 20/07/1991_

_The child we all idolised,_

_And yet betrayed unforgivably_

Sirius wept silently as he gazed at the two graves standing before him. Apparently Dumbledore had sorted out a very private funeral while he was busy killing his relatives. It was Harry's birthday now.

He would have been eleven.

Sirius wondered who had been there to say good bye to Harry. He wondered whether Remus had had the heart to pay his respects to him, despite having abandoned the puppy all these years. He knew he would have been there, had he been free. He owed it to Harry. Harry had become his reason for living after James and Lily had died.

He'd thought Harry would be going to Hogwarts, and then Remus or the Longbottoms when he'd left him with Hagrid. He would never have been able to care for his puppy in that state, not when Peter was still out there. And he still was, but he no longer cared. Harry was gone.

Why couldn't he have gone to McGonagall? Amelia? Heck, Mad-Eye would have been a better uncle than those swine! Why did Dumbledore have to send him to those monsters?

"I should have been there for you, Harry," Sirius choked, tracing the letters on the little boy's tombstone. "I should never have let Peter take me away from you. I should have taken you away myself. I'm so sorry, puppy."

He paused, sniffling and looking up to the sky in despair. "Do you remember love, Harry?" he asked the boy, whom he hoped could hear him from wherever he was. "Your mum and dad loved you so much. _I_ loved you so much. I never stayed with a woman long enough to have kids, puppy, but as far as I'm concerned, you were the child I never had. You still are. You're my little boy."

Sirius gave a sharp intake of breath, letting out a few more sobs. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you, puppy. If I'd never switched to Peter… if I'd taken you with me…" he broke off, unable to continue. He could no longer see the carved stone before him, his tears blinding him. "It's not fair, Harry. Why did they do this to you?"

The animagus numbly fished the stolen wand out of his prison robe pocket. He then aimed it at his neck with trembling fingers. "I love you so much, Harry." He sobbed. "_Diffindo_!"

The curse slit his throat cleanly, and Sirius sat there gazing at his godson's grave until his vision failed, and he collapsed on his side, dead.

Not ten metres away, a bearded man with half-moon glasses watched the scene with horror as he realised how many of his boys he'd failed.

* * *

><p><strong><span>SIRIUS BLACK FOUND DEAD BY POTTER GRAVES!<span>**

**DUMBLEDORE CONFIRMS THE MURDERER'S SUICIDE!**

**SIRIUS BLACK DECLARED INNOCENT!**

**PENSEIVE MEMORIES OF BLACK'S DEATH SHOWN BEFORE WIZENGAMOT!**

**LEADER OF THE LIGHT DEAD!**

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE JUMPS OFF OF HOGWARTS ASTRONOMY TOWER!**

* * *

><p>In a land beyond the knowledge of mortals, a four adults smiled at the laughing boy chasing a snitch in their back yard.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: A little cheesy, maybe? This is the result of a lonely day.


End file.
